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Tuesday, April 3, 2012

A State of The Chronicles

I'd like to be able to share some big epiphany with you, but I haven't had one of those in months. I'd love to be able to tell a story of some neat and hard-to-get-to place I've been, but aside from a trip to Colorado to see the family, I haven't left the house in months. Except for work, which I love, even if it's a typical, young professional-type 8-5 job. I would be thrilled, tickled even, to believe that I'm a DJ on a hip radio show that everyone listens to, but the only callers I've ever had are a former co-worker and some weird guy in Metlakatla who's called to tell me about how beautiful the moon is and how people who don't read books won't be able to tell when the aliens get here. I want to write this from an off-the-grid cabin or a yurt, but I live in a townhouse with all of the ameneties. My travel funds pay the rent and the utilities, and they buy me clothes I don't need. Paycheck to paycheck. Crisis to crisis. My thirtieth birthday less than three months away. A son who has been gone for more than 6 years. Another one who scared me with a 103 degree fever Saturday and nearly seized when I gave him ice water. (Yes, he's just fine now, thank the Gods.)

Life comes at you fast. My brother, who's 19 years old, is here trying to figure his stuff out. He's me ten years ago, five years ago, and tomorrow, maybe five years from now.

But there's hope. There has to be hope. Why would we be put here if we all didn't contain within us some magical key to unlocking a new world, a place with joy and contentedness? They say we were made in God's image. That means that we all have the potential to be gods in a way, yet, through lack of courage, will, or happiness, we just sit on that. We can get to that stuff later. We can follow through tomorrow. I don't have to do that thing right now. I'd rather cuddle with my son on a recliner, watch the same movie I've seen umpteen times, and have another cupcake, another beer, and when he falls asleep, another cigarette.

There is hope, right? There is some bigger picture that I'm not getting? Some clue? Or maybe I've gotten it, and I just didn't understand what it was when it was holding me down and punching me in the face? I don't know. All I can say with any certainty is that there is always love, and despite the chaos and the unfulfilled dreams, there will always be love. I love my boys. I love my sons. I miss both of them every day, despite the fact that one is with me for at least 12 hours a day and the other is with us all, all the time, a heart-breaking and empowering truth. It's the kind of truth that kicks your ass and leaves you there on the ground, not even wanting to get up, except for when another truth gives you no choice. I find myself stepping up to be a good dad, clinging desperately to the idea of what a good husband is, maintaining with some sort of luck the good employee/son/brother image, and all the while having no clue what I'm really supposed to be doing.

While I look for a path or a sign or a direction to go, I know deep down that I have always had the controls, the power to take my life where I wish, and have been simply following an easy path this whole time.

I'm writing still only because I haven't come to any real conclusion. This is a classic instance of what a good friend once said was "writing a whole bunch but not really saying anything". Maybe that's a fact, but I suspect there's a truth and a definition of said truth within these words. The truth is always here, waiting for us to blow the dust off of it and actually use the damn thing. Am I really that blind?

Am I really that blind?

Nothing is certain. Perhaps I am digging too deeply for this blog entry. But he words just keep coming, and I feel compelled to write them down with my two very coordinated thumbs.

The truth is not a mystery. The things that we do to prevent ourselves from seeing it, those are the mystery. When it's simple, it's glorious, and it's the factual self, not the constructed self.

Put down the complexities and wrap yourself up in the simplicity, the honesty, the work, and the appreciation for the raindrops, the wind, the flowers, the trees, the horizon.... we do too good a job at holding on to all of this crap and then defining ouselves by it. It's time to stop.

It's time to stop.





It's time to really, honestly, and sincerely begin. As yourself. As myself. As souls. As spirits. As gods. As contributing members of society, loving members of a family, loyal friends to good people.

It's time.

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